


Only the Good

by CoffeeMaenad



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Introspection, Spoilers for The Doctor Falls, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 04:33:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11372658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeMaenad/pseuds/CoffeeMaenad
Summary: As they die, they think of each other





	Only the Good

The Doctor reaches for her in her mind.

Through the blazing inferno, the stink of death and the screaming, through the darkness of time and space, through the darkness of her fading senses and her fear, he reaches for her.

She tries to reach back. She shakes, nerve endings crying out, wavering, breath becoming stilled, hearts slowing to a dull thud. And her past laughs, breaks through the illusion. 

_“Don't bother trying to regenerate_

_Didn't listen to a word._

_He'll never set you free.”_

She remembers vividly. The blank walls, that interminable imprisonment, the tinkling of piano keys, frenzied and mad, driving away the silence, the imposing silence laden with whispers of memory, of guilt and pain and sorrow, emotions imposed, emotions experienced. It had all melted into one, and it had hurt. 

And he'd smiled at her. 

She should be dead already.

And he'd stopped it. 

Death is taking longer than it should. That is to be expected. She's given herself such a good headstart.

So much time fleeing death, until her joints cry out for relief and her breathing is painful. Running to escape, to live, to survive, to be. Ordering the universe to her liking, striving for power, for control, to own is to never be owned, to rule is to never be ruled, to kill is to never be killed. After all, she's spent lifetimes doing it. She intended to carry on forever. 

She thinks back to a lifetime spent scoffing at her old friend. Her friend who races towards death, to the horrors conjoured by the expanse of the universe, who gleefully flings himself into the path of destruction to protect those ephemeral little lives from corners unimportant. Those silly earthlings, always devising new ways to kill each other, and he who would tear himself apart to keep them safe. So self, destructive. So pointless. The Doctor hates himself. He must do. Who would die pointlessly, to protect something determined to destroy itself, and now she doesn't know who she is insulting. Because maybe, in those hand squeezes and conversations, and the crinkle of his eyelids when he smiles, maybe there's a purpose. Maybe she's been striving for mere existence, and missing out on life. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

It doesn't matter. Her past drags her away, drags her down. The burning hatred and anger claw at her, she feels it sinking into her skin still. He sneers. “Never.” Her past won't let her go. He'll never let her go. A part of her still doesn't want to go. A part of her feels herself slipping away, to be moulded and shaped into something different, and it's terrifying. As death comes to claim her, she stabs at her past, and her pasts kills her and it perhaps its correct. Perhaps its right. Perhaps that future could never have been, and the best she can do it cease this intolerable wondering. 

She breathes painfully.

The Doctor's mind reaches for her again.

She can't see him. He's not really there. He's never needed to be. They can find each other. One soul in two bodies, intermingled, entwined, across the stars and beyond. Maybe that's why she's spent a lifetime disguising herself. Maybe it's just fun. She's dying. She can't get to him. He wanted her there. He wanted her there and she wasn't. 

“Missy,” he whispers, his presence thrumming through her veins, sparking in her blood and her hearts, snapping her out of her stupefied self pity. “I'm dying as well. Not yet. Not this moment. But soon. Very soon.”

She laughs wildly. Because something he'd tried to teach her, that trust and kindness didn't make one weak and pathetic. It builds unity. It makes you strong. She'd faltered in the moment, wavered in believing that, and now they''re both dying. She can feel him holding back, refusing to regenerate through sheer stubbornness and force of will, and smiles because she remembers that feeling.

“Regenerate,” she whispers back, the effort pained and difficult. She feels his resistance to that idea, his unwillingness to change.

She remembers the last time they had this conversation, remembers lying in his arms full of spite and revenge, resenting the frenzied panic in his eyes, the warmth of his embrace, resenting him. On that day, dying had been worth it, if it would break his hearts. 

What's it worth today? 

She's fading. 

“Come back,” she senses every atom of him imploring her. “Please, just come back.”

“Would love to come back,” she mumbles. "Would just love to. You did ask what I'd die for. Well, don't laugh".

She looks up at the sky. She can't hear him anymore. She's too weak, too close to the end. Her psychic abilities are nothing but a gargled hum. He won't have got that message either. He won't know any of this. Never mind. Nothing to be done about it. Death extends a shadowy hand, and she is resolved to take it. Some rest would be nice.

This silence is peace. It's clarity. She can push past the details, the ifs, the buts, the whys and wherefores, and focus on that one thing, that one endless forever thing.

Him.

Him wandering alone, forever lost, forever empty. One body, one soul. 

Before death's grasp has hold of her, in that final second, those words reappear in her mind. _Be kind_. And kindness isn't soft and silly. Kindness is staring the darkness in the face. It's savage, and illogical and fierce. It's not the easy option. It's more difficult than she'd ever imagined. The biggest challenge left to face. Maybe she's seen that now. Facing death at long last, for him, it proves something. But he still needs her. If she could still hear him, if she could just ask. But part of her knows.

It's a question he's already answered. It's always been answered. All of those pleas for unity, his extended hand, his trying over and over again.

He needs her. He needs her beside him, hand in hand, the two of them together. So she will face this. It's easy. She has only to cross the veil of death, and then find her way back to him. So many stories from so many civilisations spanning the galaxies. Why not? Her resolve hardens. If anyone can do it, she can. 

“Soon.” She knows it. “My dear Doctor, I have something I have to do, and then I'll come back to you very, very soon.” She turns to face death, a razor smile on her face, an array of possibilities blooming in her mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, if you've seen the ending to Red Dwarf Series Eight, maybe that's what happens next but it doesn't really go with the tone I'm going for here so you'll just have to imagine it. Or, I dunno, who's up for Master's Inferno? This was meant to be way fluffier than it ended up being, but for some reason I thought drunkposting would be a good idea, so what can you do?


End file.
